


The Raven Academy

by gladiatorgrl2703



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic, The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Andrew talks to ghosts, Dysfunctional Family, Family Issues, Little Kevin Day, M/M, Neil tells lies, No like his superpower is telling lies, Superheroes, Time Travel, Umbrella Academy AU, Violence, spoilers to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-01 03:16:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17859215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladiatorgrl2703/pseuds/gladiatorgrl2703
Summary: Umbrella Academy AU. When Tetsuji Moriyama adopted seven superhuman children in 1989, he had every intention of making them an unstoppable crime fighting team, at any cost. The trauma as a result of his methods tore the family apart, killed one, caused one to disappear, and the remaining five got out in their own way.Now, between their fathers death and the reemergence of their long-lost brother, the Raven Academy is tasked with stopping the impending apocalypse in any way possible.





	1. We Only See Each Other At Funerals

**Author's Note:**

> You may be thinking...gladiatorgrl why are you starting a new AU when you aren't even reliably updating the ones you are already doing? Which is the exact same thing I am thinking. But I binged the entire series in one day, and I just can't get this idea to leave my mind. 
> 
> So, here we have it. No major spoilers at this early stage of the story, but you will probably want to see it before you continue reading, as I plan to give away some major plot things in the future chapter. 
> 
> Anywhoooo, hope you all enjoy! Please give me feedback :) 
> 
> (Also the title is open to suggestions. I just royally suck at coming up with them)

The first time the Raven Academy had made a public appearance was May 17th, 2001. It was a robbery like any other that had happened in the city; a few men had decided to take on one of the understaffed banks in the area. There was nothing extraordinary about this crime. What was extraordinary, however, was the way it was handled.

When the six children, who had single-handedly killed each of the robbers and freed all of the hostages, emerged from the building and gathered on the steps just outside, it was clear that crime and punishment, as the city knew it, would soon change. And their story was one that had been recounted dozens of times since. It was an instant cultural phenomenon.

Neil had been the first in the building and was tasked with the job of eliminating the two robbers in the bank lobby, while also creating enough of a scene that the other robbers came forward.

He tapped the first robber on the shoulder and smiled up at him.

"Get back with the others," the robber shouted.

"But," Neil said, feigning confusion. "I heard a rumor."

"What?"

Neil smiled as he drew closer to the man's ear. " _I heard a rumor that you shot your friend in the foot._ "

Without hesitation, the man followed through with Neil's command. And, surprised at his action, he created enough open opportunity for Neil to knock him unconscious.

It was a bit of madness then, with Jeremy throwing robbers from the windows and Jean curving knives throw the air and into people's hearts. Andrew held his own with hand to hand, his particular power not incredibly useful when it came to these missions, and Kevin zapped in and out of space, disappearing for a moment only to reappear somewhere else to incapacitate another criminal.

Renee handled the last of the robbers who were in the vault, much to her chagrin and resistance. And when she emerged covered in blood, the beast beneath her skin carefully tucked back into place, and the children were sure they had followed their Father's ordered they appeared from the bank and into almost instant fame.

* * *

  **TODAY**

_From the perspective of 00.04_

_AKA Number 4_

_AKA The Seance_

_AKA 'Andrew'_

The news came to Andrew through a six-word text from Jean.

_Dad is dead. Details to follow._

The quiet shock barely pierced through the peak of his high. Maybe it was the drugs, but a spike of pure elation rushed up his spine and out of his mouth. The laughter would erupt again every so often as he headed back towards his childhood home.

Andrew was the first to arrive at the house, and he was careful to listen for any sounds of disturbance as he rifled through the drawers in their father's study.

"Andrew?"

He stilled, hands in the process of pushing various artifacts into his coat. It had been thirteen years since he'd heard that voice address him.

He bounded up quickly, a broad smile outstretched on his face.

"Neil," Andrew drawled. He squinted at Neil as he moved closer. "Is that you? I can hardly believe my eyes."

He stood right in front of Neil, pulling on the fabric of his shirt to move him closer. Andrew examined Neil's face, the scars across his cheek, the blueness of his eyes, before laughing and pushing him away.

"Andrew," Neil said with a wide smile. Andrew hated him for that. His eyes flicked down the hospital bracelet still on Andrew's wrist. "How have you been."

"Oh," Andrew said, turning away from Neil so that he could sit in their father's chair. "You know," he waved his other hand, the one without the hospital bracelet, this way or that. "Just needed to see for myself if he was really dead. And he is, yay!"

Neil let out a small laugh.

"And you know how I know he's really dead? Because we are standing in this room. He spent our whole childhood in here and never once allowed us in."

"He didn't allow a lot of things."

"Ah, very astute, Neil. That's why you always made such a fine number two."

"Get out of his chair," Jeremy's voice said, interrupting Neil's response.

"Oh, wow. Jeremy. The favorite number one. This really is a family reunion isn't it?"

Jeremy's eyes flicked to Neil and Andrew felt the tension in Neil's shoulders stiffen. "I guess so."

"Well, I'll just let you two catch up then," Andrew said as he made his way around the desk.

Jeremy held up a hand to stop Andrew before he was able to sneak by.

"Leave it."

"Sorry, big brother?"

"Drop what you've taken."

Andrew stared at him for a moment before rolling his eyes and letting out an exaggerated breath.

"Oh, alright." He threw the small metal objects he had managed to squirrel away. "I'm just getting an advance on our inheritance after all." He pulled several more out of his coat pockets. "I see time has done nothing concerning your sense of humor."

Jeremy let him pass, idiot that he was, and as soon as Andrew was out of the room and into the hallway, he dug out the small pearl and gold box he had shoved behind the waist of his leather pants and laughed.

"Still so gullible," he said softly before bouncing off towards Renee's room to hide his treasure.

After stashing it safely away he began to rifle through his sister's things, looking specifically for an old walkman he knew she had kept in her room on the afternoon that she had left her room for the last time. While he was unsuccessful in locating it, he did take his time going through her clothing.

Most of it was pastel and vaguely reminiscent of sometime a small Amish woman might wear, but there were a few pieces that caught his interest. He shimmied out of his skin-tight leather pants and into one of her skirts, letting out a long deep breath before crashing onto her bed with a freshly rolled joint.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost remember some of the good sounds that had come from this house. The sound of Neil's laughter, the soft singing Renee used to do in this very room. Jeremy and Neil and Kevin chasing after each other, all trying to secure the elusive spot of the golden child in their father's eyes. Jean, reciting little quotes from his favorite books, and the soft sound of Riko practicing his violin.

Andrew fell asleep, thinking about those things, refusing to let anything else but sound come into his brain. But it didn't last long. He hadn't gone to sleep nearly high enough. He woke in a start, sitting up in the bed and gasping for air, feeling the cold sweat in between his thighs and down the back of his neck.

He took a few slow breaths before leaving Renee's room and heading towards the living room. He could hear more voices now. He could hear Riko calling out in the entryway.

Andrew said a small hello before settling himself onto the table directly behind Riko. He'd heard Jeremy coming in behind him and was curious to see how this interaction would play itself out.

"Riko?" Jeremy asked as he moved into sight.

"Oh, Jeremy," Riko said quietly, as though he was still afraid to raise his voice indoors. "Hi."

Jeremy looked over at Andrew before addressing Riko.

Andrew had forgotten just how glowy Jeremy could be. The casual radiance of his movements. The contained brightness of his smile. From the way Riko stilled when Jeremy turned the smile on him, Riko had forgotten as well.

"Hi," Jeremy said before pulling Riko into a hug. "It's been way too long. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. And you? How have you been?"

"Well," Jeremy said with a small inhale. "It's been fine. Been here with Dad mostly."

"Always the wonder kid," Neil said disdainfully as he descended the stairs. To Riko, he said, "I don't know what you're doing here. After everything you wrote in that book of yours, I don't know how you could think you're welcome."

Riko, in his fitted suit, looked distinctly uncomfortable under Neil's gaze.

"How is that possibly helpful?" Jeremy called after him. Neil flipped him off before disappearing.

"You know," he said, eyes flicking to Andrew for a moment before landing back on Jeremy. "He's probably right. Maybe I should-"

"Hey," Jeremy said softly. Riko stopped talking. "He's not. I'm glad you're here."

Riko's cheeks lifted into a nervous half-smile, and they lingered there for a moment, awkwardly taking each other in.

"All the fuzzy family reunion feelings are starting to get to me," Andrew announced, moving towards the living room where their Father's liquor cabinet had yet to be broken into.

"You know," Renee said from somewhere behind him. "You probably shouldn't be drinking right now."

"Sage advice."

"They need you right now."

"When have they ever needed me?"

"Now, don't be bitter, Andrew. It's unbecoming. You all need each other right now. This is a time to come together as a family."

"Well, then I guess we would all still need to be here to do that."

"Low blow," she said playfully. "Don't use my death as a reason to push them away."

"Why Renee," he said, throwing back the whiskey he'd poured. She started to fade a bit from his mind. "You have to stop giving me such excellent ideas."

"And you have to stop stealing my old clothes."

He looked down at the knee length leather skirt he was currently sporting and flipped her off before heading towards the couch. The rest of the family, it had seemed, had already gathered there, discussing the details of their father's death.

"I don't understand," Riko said softly as he glanced at his siblings. "I thought they said it was a heart attack."

"Yeah," Jeremy said quickly. "According to the coroner."

"And here we go," Neil mumbled.

"Look," Jeremy said, a bit of his frustration seeping in. "All I'm saying is we should be careful. The last time I talked to dad, he sounded strange."

Jean ignored him. "Strange like how?"

"On edge. He told me to be careful of who I trust. "

"He was paranoid, Jeremy. I'm sure going senile didn't help with that."

"He didn't go senile," Jeremy said quickly, trying not to rise to Neil's bait. "And he must have known something was going to happen."

Jeremy turned to Andrew and Andrew knew before he spoke what he was going to ask.

"I know you don't like to do it, but I need you to talk to dad."

Jean scoffed.

Andrew feigned surprise, pointing at himself and mouthing 'me'?

"Knock it off, Andrew. We need answers." 

"Look, you know I'd love to call up Dad. 'Hey Dad, I know you're probably busy coming up with fantastic new methods of torture with Ed Gein and Jeffrey Dahmer, but if you would just accept my call'." He erupted into a fit of giggles.

"Andrew," Jeremy said, trying to get him to focus.

"I wish I could help-" Andrew said soberly. 

"So then, help." 

"But I'm just not in the right mindset." 

"You mean you're high?" Neil asked. 

"Of course I'm high, Neil, you pathetic creature." He laughed then lowered his voice to a stage whisper. "Hey, is that the first mystery you've managed to solve?"

"Fuck you."

Andrew winked suggestively. "All these promises and none of the follow through."

"Hey, cut it out," Jeremy interrupted. "We need to figure out what happened with Dad. There's also the issue of the missing cane."

"And who gives a shit about his missing cane?"

"Exactly," Jeremy said quickly. "It was worthless. So whoever took it, it was personal. Someone with a grudge."

Andrew feigned surprise. "A grudge? On our saint of a father?"

"Where are you going with this?" Jean asked.

Neil laughed bitterly. "Isn't it obvious? He thinks one of us killed dad."

There was a moment of silence that was just a second too long.

"You do," Jean said into the stillness of the room.

Andrew watched as Jeremy crumpled his face trying to find a way to go about this diplomatically.

"How could you think that?" Riko asked.

"Nicely done, Jeremy. There's the number one Dad was always talking about," Neil said before walking out.

"Well," Andrew said popping up. Riko was right behind him. "I'm just going to go murder mom quick."

"Look," Jeremy tried as Jean left the room. "That's not what I was trying to say. But there's got to be some reason--"

Andrew knew what he needed to do, the moment he left the living room. He grabbed the urn that had been resting on the table of the entryway and headed towards his father's study.

When he arrived, he placed it on his father's desk, next to a framed photograph, and tried, despite how incredibly high he was, to access his power.

"You know," he started, flicking his eyes between the picture and the urn. "If I was dead, and I knew one of my adopted sons could commune with ghosts, I might consider manifesting. Declare who killed me, give an angry lecture about the things my junkie son was stealing from the house, and then rest in eternal peace."

When his father did not appear, Andrew tried a few different approaches, deciding goading him into existence was probably not the way to go.

Andrew slapped his cheeks. "Sober, sober, sober," he repeated. Then he tried to manifest the same way he did when he needed to speak to Renee.

"You're out of practice. You forget that I come to you when I want to talk."

"Aw, should I be flattered?"

"No," Renee admitted. "The afterlife is dreadfully boring."

"Thanks, sis."

"You need to focus."

"Oh, well if that's all." He closed his eyes, trying to picture his father in front of him.

"C'mon, Dad," Andrew sang. "Come out, come out wherever you are."

"Take this seriously," Renee warned.

Andrew shut his mouth, focused again. When he opened his eyes and saw nothing there, he lost it.

"You always were a stubborn fucking prick," he shouted at the urn. "You neglected us when we were alive so why stop now, eh?"

"Calm down," Renee said lazily.

"Excellent advice, number six," Andrew said before pulling a small packet of pills from his pocket.

"Oh, Andrew," Renee said sadly. She disappeared the moment the pill went down his throat.

Not five minutes later, there was a crash out in the backyard that ripped all remaining sound from Andrew's ears. All of the metal in the room, letter openers, paperweights, and his father's urn, flew to the wall closest to the backyard. And when Andrew looked outside, he was surprised to find the sky had gone entirely black despite it being three in the afternoon.

He left the urn, and ran down the steps, as the earsplitting cracking continued outside. He burst through the doors to find most of his family already there.

"What the hell is that?" Neil demanded.

"Looks like some sort of temporal anomaly. Or a miniature black hole," Jeremy yelled. They could barely make out the sound of his voice over the noise.

"Nice classification there, number one," Neil bit out sarcastically.

As Jean came skidding out into the backyard, sparks of electricity burst through the hole.

"Everyone get behind me," Jeremy said quickly.

"Yeah, everyone get behind us," Neil agreed, pulling Andrew, who was looking dangerously close like he might jump through the portal, behind him. Jean grabbed Jeremy's hand as the hole spit out a small brown haired boy.

The hole disappeared, and the sky cleared, the cool afternoon sun sweeping lazy light back into place.

They moved closer, and it was Andrew who spoke first.

"Does anyone else see, little Kevin, or is that just me?"

Kevin--returned to his former thirteen-year-old self--looked down at his body and backed up at his family, before saying in the most bemused voice he could muster one single word.

"Shit."


	2. I Think We're Alone Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you so much for all of the positivity this story has gone! I've loved reading through the comments and I am so excited to be creating this fic! 
> 
> Secondly, one small detail that is a change. I've shared my rationale for the decisions I made regarding why each character takes on the number that they did. If you are interested, it is in the comments on the first chapter, but I have made one small change. In the first chapter, it claims that Neil is number two, and I have since changed that. The numbers and corresponding powers are listed below:  
> 00.01 - Number One: Jeremy Power: Super strength (while he was sent to the moon there is no gorilla modification in this fic)  
> 00.02 - Number Two: Jean Power: Curve anything he throws  
> 00.03 - Number Three: Neil Power: Manipulate reality with lies  
> 00.04 - Number Four: Andrew Power: Can Commune with the Dead  
> 00.05 - Number Five: Kevin Power: Time and Space Travel  
> 00.06 - Number Six: Renee Power: Tentacled Beast  
> 00.07 - Number Seven: Riko Power: Unidentified 
> 
> Thirdly, this fic will be updating once per week (I'd love to do it more frequently than that but I just can't promise it will happen) the post date moving forward will be every Sunday. 
> 
> Finally, please send any and all feedback! It helps me make the story more enjoyable for you all, which is ultimately the goal! Thanks and enjoy!

The first exclusive interview for teen magazine _TweenHit_ came out exactly four months after The Raven Academy’s first public appearance. It was Jeremy and Kevin, following their father’s orders of course, that took the lead. Neil was deemed too testy with reporters to be granted more than a few brief lines. Jean remained polite but tight lipped. But Jeremy, with his sunshine optimism, and Kevin with his diplomacy and news camera smile, handled the questions with ease. Andrew and Renee had hardly said a word.

Their father framed it, and hung it up in the living room along with the newspaper clipping of their first mission, and other items showcasing their success as a cultural phenomenon. For the success of the article, he rewarded Jeremy with a small private talk under his favorite tree in the backyard. 

And when the children gathered around to read it, each person taking a few lines at a time and repeating them back to the group, something unsettling made its way into their chests. Envy, for the way their lives sounded, with all of their father’s secrets buried behind the smiles plastered on their faces, seeped across their skin.

Neil burned their copy as soon as they were done.

* * *

  **TODAY**

_ From the perspective of 00.05 _

_ AKA Number Five _

_ AKA The Boy  _

_ AKA 'Kevin' _

The first thing Kevin decided as soon as he realized the flaw in his calculation that landed him in his thirteen year old body was that he desperately needed a drink. So, despite the questions his sibling peppered him with on his way to his father’s bar, he focused his attention on selecting one very specific bottle of vodka. They seemed intent to wait him out after it was clear he wasn’t going to answer them right away, and settled across various pieces of furniture around the room. Neil remained standing. 

As soon as he unscrewed the cap and poured himself a generous glass, he decided to speak. 

“What is today’s _exact_ date?” 

“March 24th,” Riko supplied. Kevin nodded before taking a sip of his drink. 

“So…” Jeremy looked at everyone to gauge their reactions to seeing their brother for the first time in seventeen years. “Are we going to talk about what happened?” 

When Kevin poured himself a new drink and didn’t answer, Jean tried. 

“Where have you been?” 

“The future,” Kevin said evenly. “It’s utter shit by the way.” 

“Called it,” Andrew supplied gleefully. Neil huffed in recognition. 

“Should have listened to Dad I guess,” Kevin said with a shrug. “Jumping through space is one thing.” 

As if to demonstrated, he jumped over to the couches, eager to get away from the crowd his family had formed around him. “Time is a completely different thing all together.” 

“Right,” Jean said shaking his head as he tried to process. “But how did you get back?” 

Kevin let out a small sigh. “In the end, I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Neil interrupted. 

“It does actually. You just need more than half a brain to understand it.” 

Neil moved forward instantly, but Jeremy rose to block his path. Kevin remained unfazed. 

“How long were you there?” Riko asked. 

“Forty-five years.” 

“So, you’re fifty eight right now?” Jean asked skeptically. 

“No,” Kevin said with a sigh. “My consciousness is fifty-eight. My body however, seems to be stuck like this.” He waved his hand up and down in the air, gesturing to his thirteen year old self. 

Kevin picked up the newspaper on the coffee table, staring at the picture of his father on the front page. In the future, all he had had to rely on was old newspapers and books to tell him about the past. He knew most things, could piece most of them together between Riko's books and the publicity his siblings had managed to attract, but it was different from knowing what would happen in only a few days. It was different now that he was here, now that he felt responsible for them. 

“So, the old man’s gone, huh? Heart failure?” 

“Yes,” Jean said at the same time Jeremy denied it. 

Kevin looked between the two of them and then smirked. “Nothing’s changed.” 

For a moment no one else spoke. They all just stared at him, and Kevin, in all honesty couldn’t blame them. It had taken him so long to get back he was having some difficulty processing it as well. 

“That’s it?” Jaan asked. 

“Is there more to say? Such is life. What will, be will be, etcetera etcetera. May as well get this funeral over with though.” Kevin stood, and knowing Jeremy had probably already planned something, tried to usher the others into movement. They didn't have time to waste on sentimentality or nostalgia. And Kevin had to figure out quickly who he could trust to tell the truth about just how shitty the future was. Of course, there were a few things Kevin had to take care of before he was able to think about involving the others. 

Despite the grumbling of his siblings, they were pretty much in agreement about saying goodbye to their father for good and then getting on with their lives. And five minutes later, everyone was gathered outside—in the rain of course—waiting for Jeremy to scatter their father’s ashes. 

Jeremy, holding tight to urn, looked out at his siblings. No one said anything as he dumped the ashes out. They landed in a soggy pile in the middle of the small circle they had made. 

“Okay. Well,” he said uncertainly. “Does anyone want to speak?” 

Kevin took in the discomfort from each one of his siblings. Riko’s book had been his only source of information in the future about what his family had been up to—the way the dynamic had shifted and changed and evolved. He couldn’t help but wonder as he was reading it, if Riko had exaggerated certain aspects of the family dynamic. He had gotten the pieces concerning their childhood accurate enough, but Kevin still hadn’t been sure. Watching his siblings now it was clear Riko hadn’t exaggerated the distance between each of them. In fact, Kevin considered as the silence stretched on longer than necessary, he had been tame in describing it. 

“He was a monster,” Neil said. There was no hesitation in his voice. 

Andrew laughed, and at the suddenness of the sound Kevin watched Riko stiffen. 

“He was a terrible person, and a worse father,” Neil continued. “And the world is better off with him gone.” 

Andrew was smiling with delight. “Careful with that mouth, Neil,” he sang. 

“My _name_ is number three, because our father couldn’t be bothered to give us real names. Mom had to do that. And you know what, I think he--” 

“You should stop talking now,” Jean said suddenly. 

Neil turned to him, incredulous, with a vicious smile on his face. “You of all people should be on my side here, number _two_.” 

“Shut up.” 

“All those things he did to you. All those years he dangled first place in front of you. And what happened?” Neil laughed bitterly. “He had to send Jeremy two hundred million miles away, to the moon, and you still weren’t good enough for him.” 

“Neil!” Jeremy yelled as Jean stiffened, taking steps forward towards him. 

“Not you, too, Jeremy. Wasn’t it tiring enough being dad’s puppet all those years? All those things he used to make you do with a smile on your face and a skip in your step. Hey, we never did get a chance to chat about why he sent you away. Top secret mission?” 

Jeremy stilled, his face hardening, but Neil just continued on. 

He turned towards his other siblings. “He fucked _all_ of us. Don’t get me started on Renee, at least she got out. Riko on the other hand—”

“Shut your mouth about her,” Andrew shouted quickly. Jean was quicker. He closed the distance between himself and Neil and swung right for Neil’s jaw. 

“Hit him, hit him,” Andrew encouraged. 

As soon as it was clear to Kevin that his brothers were determined to make asses out of themselves for the rest of the evening, he was out.

“I’ll be inside. I don’t have time for this.” 

“I’ll tell you if one of them kills the other,” Andrew called after him, without looking away. Jeremy was using his super strength to keep them apart, and Neil was turning his attention now on trying to break his arm in half. 

“I heard a rumor—” Neil started. 

The sound of someone’s fist hitting Neil’s jaw seemed to carry into the house. 

“He just doesn’t know when to stop, does he?” Riko asked from behind Kevin as they moved towards the living room. 

Kevin hadn’t realized that Riko had followed him in. He considered his brother with an assessing gaze before speaking. 

“Well, that’s always been Neil.” 

“I guess,” Riko said quietly. 

“I read your book by the way,” Kevin said as he moved back towards the bar. Just another splash or two of vodka would do. What he really wanted was coffee, but given how much his father had hated the stuff, he didn’t find it likely he would be able to get any inside the house.“Interesting move, giving away the family secrets like that.” 

“They hate me.” 

“Yes, well. There are worse things.” 

“You mean Renee.” 

Kevin continued assessing the Riko before him. He hadn’t changed much from how he remembered the thirteen year old Riko. Dressed better for sure, though those black and red Raven Academy uniforms were so atrocious anything was an improvement. Kevin wondered if Riko still tucked his emotions away so as to not inconvenience others.

“Was it bad?” 

Riko nodded, looking away after a moment. 

“Well, I’m going to go,” Riko said with a small sad little smile. “Neil, despite his mouth, is right. I don’t belong here.” 

“It’s more your home than mine,” Kevin said evenly. “I’ve been away from it for so long.” 

“Either way,” Riko said. He took a moment to look around the house. “You’ve been gone a long time, Kev.” 

At his words Kevin looked away from his vodka and into Riko’s eyes. 

“I don’t want to lose you again,” Riko said. 

Kevin cracked a crocked smile, jaded as it might be, at Riko’s naivety. He held up his glass. “You know where to find me.” 

Riko nodded before walking soundlessly out of the house. 


	3. Imagine How The World Could Be, So Very Fine

At eleven years old, each member of the Raven Academy received their official seal of approval from Tetsuji Moriyama. It came in the form of a tattoo on their inner forearm. A black raven, with a red collar, inside a circle.

Andrew had gone first—Kevin and Neil following him—and then Renee—taking care to deal with Jeremy and Jean afterwards. And from that day forward, that was the split amongst them. Kevin and Neil relied on Andrew after accepting his protection, and Renee had taken it upon herself to be responsible for the others. 

Riko, having not received a tattoo, drew one on himself every day without fail. This was a fact that irritated his siblings who had actually gone through the traumatizing process. Riko was never assured protection from anyone. In their eyes, with him being perfectly normal, there just wasn’t anything to protect him from.

And then Renee had died, and Kevin had disappeared, and without those two no one relied on anyone anymore.

* * *

 

** TODAY **

_ From the perspective of 00.03 _

_ AKA number 3  _

_ AKA The Rumor _

_ AKA 'Neil' _

When Neil arrived back at the Foxhole Gym, Kevin was already there waiting in his bedroom. It scared the utter shit out of Neil, who flinched so violently he lost the breath in his chest. 

“Don’t you know better than to sneak up on people?” Neil demanded. 

“You’d have to have considerably better reflexes for me to be nervous about startling you.” 

Neil didn't bother to dignify Kevin's comment with a response. He shed his utility belt where he kept his knives and hung it up before sitting across from Kevin at the small, uneven kitchen table.

“This is where you’ve been spending all your time, huh?” Kevin asked, looking around the room. He eyed some of the boxing posters Neil had kept over the years since he'd first started working for the gym. The big fights that he'd watched between friends, the ones he'd participated in, the defeats that had crushed him, they all hung as decor in his makeshift apartment. 

Neil wasn’t sure when it had happened, when the staff at the gym had become a second family to him, but as he watched Kevin appraise the photos and letters that Neil had strewn upon his wall, he felt defensive. Kevin took particular care in examining one with Matt and Dan. 

“Moved out as soon as I turned seventeen.” 

“Yeah, I read about it in Riko’s book,” Kevin said, still examining the pictures behind him on the wall. He tapped a finger against the glass where Aaron and Neil were sitting next to each other on a couch, Nicky swinging an arm around each of their shoulders. Neither party looked particularly pleased. 

“Twin, huh?” 

Neil couldn’t hide the distaste in his mouth. “Yeah. It exploded in the papers.” 

“And they met?” 

“Briefly. It didn’t go well.” 

“And then you moved out?” 

Neil didn’t appreciate the implication of Kevin’s tone. They may be brothers but it had been a long time since Neil had felt responsible for saving Andrew from himself. 

“Not all of us stayed in the house waiting to play savior. Some of us decided it was time to be adults.” 

“Yeah?” Kevin asked lazily turning away from the photos. “Which ones?” 

Neil felt his frustration flame quickly. “How is it possible you are more arrogant? Aren’t you supposed to mature as you get older?” 

Kevin set a hard look on Neil. “I’ve done and seen things you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. You may think you’re old now, but I look at you and all I see is a naive child.” 

Neil rolled his eyes, a fresh retort on his tongue. Then he caught sight of blood on Kevin’s sleeve. 

“You’re hurt,” he accused, reaching for Kevin’s arm.

Kevin retracted slightly with a small shake of his head. “It’s a scratch.” 

“What have you been up to?” Neil asked, not hiding his suspicions. 

“I came here because I think you’re the only one who will believe me.” 

Neil looked into Kevin’s eyes. He may have appeared young, but he carried himself as though he was much older. Neil suddenly didn't have the urge to be petulant. With Kevin, it had always been easy to get fired up and easier still to aggravate him, with his complete lack of patience for incompetence. But when Kevin was sincere, when he was genuine, it was the most terrifying thing. He could fling insults easily, and he wasn’t known for mincing his words, but he spoke the truth with such brutal honesty you just had to listen. 

“I need you to be calm as I tell you.” 

“Okay."

“I’m serious, Neil.” 

“Okay. Calm, I got it,” Neil said impatiently. “Can you tell me already?” 

Kevin sighed and with one more glance around the room he began to tell his story. 

He was slow in explaining it, clearly not wanting to repeat himself by speeding through the details. In the future he had found nothing, he explained. The apocalypse had hit, and it was supposed to happen in eight days. He explained all about the Commission, who had offered him a job performing ‘corrections’ to keep the timeline in continuum. He shared the details of how he’d broken his contract to come back and warn the family. 

The apocalypse. The end of the world. And so soon. Neil couldn’t help but feel bitter. Their whole lives their father had trained them to evade death. To complete their missions, save the world, and avoid death at all costs. And now Neil had eight days to live. 

Neil, much to Kevin’s obvious irritation, asked a million clarifying questions. And once Kevin answered them all, once Neil began to wrap his mind around the absurdity of it, Neil asked one single question. 

“So, what do we do?” 

Kevin was quick. “I don’t want you involved. There are people after me and I don’t want anyone to get mixed up in the crossfire.” 

“Since when?” Neil demanded. It was a low blow, a resentment left from when they had been kids. Kevin hadn’t minded standing behind Andrew or Neil, especially when facing a fear. “Look, I’m sorry Kevin, but this is what Dad trained us for. And you’re good, but you can’t stop the apocalypse alone.” 

Kevin’s eyes narrowed. “Like I’ve said already, I’ve lived an entire life. I’ve done things…” He froze, shaking his head. “I’ve been alone, on my own, this whole time—”

“Well, you don’t have to now. So get over yourself,” Neil said hotly. “These people, they work for your former employer right? 

Kevin nodded. “They came for me last night.” 

“Have you told Andrew?” 

Kevin shook his head. “From what I read in Riko’s book, he doesn’t do that anymore.” 

Neil ignored the hot irritation that came as a reminder of what Riko had done to them, what information he had exposed into the public. “Well, you’re back now. Things are different.” 

Kevin hedged an unimpressed look at him, but Neil continued on, insistent. “You should try at least. He needs it.” 

Kevin’s expression softened, the apocalypse momentarily forgotten. “How is he?” 

Neil just shook his head. It was complicated with Andrew and Neil wasn’t always sure how to feel about him. There was the trauma that their father had put him through and the loss of Kevin and then Renee had hit him hard. Neil didn’t understand it, because if he just remained sober enough he could see them whenever he wanted. That was actually the topic of their last fight, how Andrew was pissing away his opportunity to see Renee. Andrew hadn’t been able to conjure for years, not since he was still a teenager and the drugs only fueled his myriad of problems further. And had been the last time Neil had watched Andrew go off the deep end. 

“Lost,” Neil said honestly. 

“And have you tried—”

“We aren’t like that anymore,” Neil said quickly, standing and making his way into the bathroom to get some peroxide and bandages. When he returned Kevin was sliding off the jacket of his Raven Academy uniform. It was odd seeing him in it again, possibly even weirder than seeing Kevin here at all. There was a thick gash in the middle of his forearm, tied up with a cloth napkin. 

Neil worked efficiently to clean, stitch and bandage the wound. Kevin remained silent the entire time. 

“You know,” Kevin said softly. “I was worried you wouldn’t believe me.” 

“You always worry about the wrong things,” Neil said.“Are you going to tell the others?” 

“Not yet. There are some things I need to figure out first.” 

Neil nodded. It was silent for a moment, and it seemed to expand around them so that the silence brought with it suffocating discomfort. 

“He’s your brother, Neil.” 

“Yeah. He used to be more than that,” Neil said bitterly. “And I’m done talking about it. So drop it.” 

“It’s not worth it. Trust me, when you’ve lived as long as I have—”

“Save the holier-than-thou bullshit, yeah Kev? It was shit when we were thirteen and it’s no better now.” 

No one spoke as Neil worked. 

Silence swallowed them again. That had been one of the worst things about the house. You would think with six siblings, you wouldn’t ever notice silence. But their father even managed to use that as a weapon. With silence came isolation, and that was worse. There had been a point where the children of the Raven Academy had been able to endure anything with their siblings at their side. But now it was both that ate at them; silence and a complete lack of dependency. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the support! Please give your feedback! And shoot any ideas you might have my way, always happy to consider them :)


	4. Extra Ordinary

In the fall of 2014, Riko Moriyama decided to publish a memoir. For anyone else, this might be an exciting endeavor but for Riko—fueled with equal parts hatred for his childhood and desperate longing to finally get the attention he had been denied as a child—it was an exercise in mental gymnastics. 

The opening line became the headline in newspapers, the subject matter of tweets, the staple of both criticism and rave reviews. _My name is Riko Moriyama and this is my story._

Each of the Moriyama children read the book cover to cover, each with a slightly different reaction. But like most of the world, it was the fascination of what would be revealed that fueled the reading of the book. And this and this alone connected them. 

Neil made a dartboard from the back cover, where Riko’s face was not quite smiling in all its plainness. Andrew, in a half-hearted attempt of getting clean, read through it in his narcotics anonymous meetings. Jeremy, desperate to know exactly how much had been revealed, combed through it three times, never quite certain he’d discovered every small nuanced secret Riko had unveiled for general consumption. Jean read it with his usual detached indifference, ignoring the pull in his stomach every time his name was mentioned.

In the end, the attention Riko received was short-lived. And he realized quickly, that no one was interested in him and his story. They simply wanted to know the secrets of the Moriyamas. And he had delivered it unknowingly, once again manipulated into believing he could matter if only he screamed loud enough for attention.

* * *

 

** TODAY  **

_ From the perspective of 00.07 _

_ AKA Number Seven  _

_ AKA The White Violin  _

_ AKA ‘Riko’ _

Riko was surprised to see Jean waiting for him in the hallway of his apartment building. Jean looked as uncomfortable as Riko felt, standing in cold silence. His anxiety betrayed his air of careful easiness, and Riko noticed his fingers twitch slightly at his sides. Jean was nervous—Riko took that information in with a very delicate, slightly saddened sigh, before giving a tentative smile and opening the door. 

It had been raining. Though whereas Riko had managed to stay mostly dry, Jean had not. He was a soggy mess and as Riko looked at him it was almost as if he was looking through him, as though the edges of Jean had blurred out a bit. 

With the exception of their father’s funeral they haven’t seen each other in thirteen years. 

Jean had never really looked like a child. His jaw was too sharp, his eyes far too assessing for that, even in his youth. But as Riko stared at him inside his own apartment he reflect on how Jean looked so much older than Riko could have ever imagined him being. There had been a point where he and Jean thought they would never grow up. For Jean, it was a miracle he made it to his seventeenth birthday. For Riko, even imaging that seemed like an exercise in futility. 

“Do you want coffee, or…?” Riko asked, his voice coming out as uncertain as he felt. 

“Sure,” Jean said, though it hardly sounded like he wanted any. 

Riko was just glad for something to do with his hands. 

“You can sit.” He motioned to the living room before turning to his little kitchen area to begin filling a pot with water. He poured some whole coffee beans into an electric grinder and took a breath before allowing the grating noise of the machine to drown out every surrounding noise. He could hear all the little shifts Jean kept making on the armchair, and was thankful to have the noise of the coffee grinder in his ears, so overwhelming that it grounded him. 

“So,” Riko said as he walked over. He sat on the couch next to the armchair Jean occupied. “What can I help you with?”

Jean took in the details of the apartment before settling his gaze back on Riko.

“Your apartment is lovely.” 

Riko, who had barely put any thought into the decor, looked around wondering what Jean saw in the place. 

“Thank you,” he said awkwardly. Riko focused on keeping himself very still. 

“I wanted to check on you after the funeral.” 

“Check on me?” Riko echoed. 

“You left so abruptly,” Jean explained. “And I know how Neil can be. I wanted to see if you were alright.” 

“Why?” Riko asked, feeling a bit stupid. 

“You’re family,” Jean said as though it were that simple. 

“Sure, technically. But no one wanted me there.” 

“That’s not true,” Jean started. “It was dad’s funeral. It was only right that we were all together.” 

“It’s fine. You don’t have to make excuses, Jean. I didn’t go in expecting intimacy or affection or…” Riko’s words failed him as his voice sputtered out. He couldn’t for the life of him remember why he had gone. Because Tetsuji had been his father too, maybe? Because he’d wanted closure, or reassurance that he was really gone?

The words made Jean bristle. Riko watched tension form in his shoulders. 

“Yes, well. I don’t know why we would expect that of you,” Jean said, slightly cold and slightly distant. 

“Excuse me?” Riko asked. Surely, he had misunderstood the implications of Jean’s statement. 

“Why would _we_ expect warmth or intimacy from you? You put everyone at arm’s length. You have since we were children, Riko.” 

“Dad—”

“Don’t.” The single word was harsh as it left Jean’s lips, and Jean closed his eyes, his hand forming a fist against his thigh. 

Riko didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why Jean was making him feel this way. Jean, who had spent so much time at his side as a child, even when their father encouraged everyone to operate around Riko, never including him, never making him feel special. 

“Dad made me this way,” Riko said finally. 

Jean’s huff of laughter was bitter. As he opened his eyes Riko spotted some emotion he hadn’t seen in years. “Dad made you publish that book about us?” 

To this, Riko had nothing to say. He knew—of course he _knew—_ that his siblings harbored resentment for the things he had written about them in his book. But surely, they were able to see things from his perspective—even if he had maybe written about them in anger. For some reason, it came as a surprise to Riko that Jean was bitter about it. Neil, Andrew, that was expected. For Jeremy, it was more issue of the loyalty to their father than anything he had written, but with Jean, Riko hadn’t considered in what particular ways he would be offended. 

“Look,” Jean said with a sigh. “We all remember how you were treated, and some of the things Dad used to make you do. But it’s probably better if we forget what happened and move on.” 

It was clear this was not the avenue Jean had wanted the conversation to go down, and he was trying to change it. But something made Riko hold steadfast. 

“No,” Riko said, suddenly finding his voice. It came out hard and terrible, and reminded him so much of when he was a child he wanted to cringe. “You either won’t forgive me or you can’t and I want to know which it is.” 

Jean looked at him like it physically pained him to be having this conversation. 

“I’m not blaming you for what you did, Riko. We all did _things_ we aren’t proud of. Dad was manipulative and—”

“So you won’t forgive me for talking about it? Or you won’t forgive me for trying to deal with it, in my own way after the fact? Or for embarrassing you and our siblings?” 

“I won’t forgive you for letting it control your whole life,” Jean snapped. 

Riko was stunned silent. 

“Christ, Riko. We’re all fucked up. But, at least we try to get through. Well, maybe with the exception of Andrew. _You_ …You can’t even have normal relationships.” 

“That’s not true,” Riko tried to protest feebly. 

“Isn’t it? You have no friends. You’ve had no partners. You don’t talk to us anymore.” 

“That’s not my fault—”

“It never is, is it?” 

Riko stood. “You should go.” 

Jean sighed. “Look. This isn’t how I wanted things to go.” 

“Well, it’s how they went.” 

“Please try not to be angry with me—”

“Why?” Riko demanded. “Scared I’ll start taking some of Dad’s orders as suggestions?” 

Jean flinched so violently that Riko knew he fucked up, and when Jean looked at him there was a far away expression in his eyes. 

“I’ll call you in a few days. To check up on you. See how you’re doing,” Jean said with zero emotion and zero eye contact. 

“Jean,” Riko tried. But it was weak, like he was, and didn’t stop Jean from walking out the door.

The coffee maker beeped to indicate it was done brewing and Riko let out a low curse like a hiss.

* * *

 

He slept the entire day. Well, not really sleeping. More like lying in bed, staring at the blank wall for hours on end until he wasn’t even sure if he was awake or if his brain was on. Because that’s what you did when you were Depressed with a capital D, with anxiety bad enough that the war they were constantly raging against each other in your head was all you had energy to sustain. Riko had swallowed his medicine before crawling under the covers and now—even though he knew this was a terrible practice, what his therapist would call an Unhealthy Coping Mechanism—he couldn’t stop himself from withdrawing into the solace of his bed. 

When his mind did drift to coherent thoughts, they were all of the worst things he usually said to himself. He shut his eyes tight, so tight that stars exploded inside his mind. He tried bringing his palms to his temple and squeezing so tight that it felt like he might knock himself unconscious. Anything really to fight off the voice in his head telling him to do something horrible to himself. Anything to fight off the voice telling him to end it all. 

The harsh knock on the door of his apartment reverberated just loud enough that he couldn’t pretend to have not heard it. Riko took a deep breath, waiting to see if it would go away, before it resounded once more through the hallway. 

“One moment,” Riko called from the bedroom. He hadn’t moved yet. He was in the process of convincing his limbs to cooperate with his feeble requests when the knock sounded once more. 

The sound acted as a catalyst and Riko was moving towards the door in the next second. When he wrenched it open, Riko stilled in surprise at the man standing on the other side. 

He was handsome. Riko decided this immediately. Slender, with narrow shoulders and a narrower waist. There was something decidedly captivating behind his plain-ness. He looked like someone Riko might have passed on the street a dozen times, but staring into his eyes, Riko was surprised to see so much more. 

“Um,” Riko said dumbly. “Can I help you?” 

The man flashed a small smile, as though he was embarrassed to be standing in front of Riko. The absurdity of it caused Riko to twitch. 

“I’m your four o’clock.” His voice was silken, though slightly unsure. Riko felt like a proper idiot immediately. 

“Right. Right.” He pulled the door open further, motioning for the man to come in. “I’m so sorry. It completely slipped my mind.” 

“No worries,” the man said cooly. He glanced around the apartment as Riko closed the door and then smiled slightly once more as he extended a hand. “Hachiro Kurosawa.” 

“Um. Riko,” he said as he shook his hand. Hachiro’s grip was firm but not overbearing. It made Riko feel the ridiculous urge to clear his throat.

“Riko,” Hachiro repeated. “Japanese?” 

Riko scratched the inside of his wrist absentmindedly. “Not sure. My adoptive mother named me.” 

Riko expected Hachiro to apologize, or dwell in the awkward discomfort of the moment, but he did neither.

“Seems Japanese,” he said with a small smile. “It’s not an insult,” he said as a frown pulled at Riko’s lips. “My family is from Japan. I meant it much more as a serendipitous connection. I believe we meet certain people in the moments when we need them most. Don’t you?” 

“I suppose,” Riko said. Eager to escape the uncomfortable gaze of the stranger, Riko motioned towards the violin propped up against the chair he used for his lessons. “We’ll just be over here.” 

“It’s a lovely instrument,” Hachiro said as he reached out. He hesitated for a moment. “You don’t mind, do you?” 

Riko motioned for him to pick the instrument up. 

Hachiro picked it up rather delicately, his slender fingers running along the strings and the bridge of the instrument. 

“A bit odd, no?” Hachiro said as he looked up from the instrument to Riko. 

“What is?” 

“Learning an instrument at my age?” 

Riko shook his head. “Many of my students are children, but I teach because I want to help other people harness their passion for music. If you love music, then you are in the right place.” 

Hachiro have another one of his small smiles, and Riko couldn’t help but feel satisfied with the answer he had given. 

“Shall we begin, then?” Hachiro asked. 

Riko stepped closer to take the violin into his own hands. 

“We’ll start simple,” he said. 

And they did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three guesses what Hachiro's real name is...
> 
> Thanks again for all of the support on this fic! It has been so much fun to write and I can't wait to deliver more content!


	5. Time, Time, Time: See What's Become of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry for the delay, this chapter seriously did not want to come out! Here we've got a bit of Jean perceptive. I'm really hoping to develop and build the different relationships between each of the siblings, so please please send feedback and even suggestions of things you might like to see between them! I'm trying to focus slightly more on the development of their past than the show had time to really develop, so if you have any headcanons please feel free to share!

They were six the first time anyone could remember Riko carrying out their father’s orders. But it was not until they were twelve that anyone saw him break under the pressure of it. In Tetsujji’s mind that was the year they didn’t need to be coddled anymore—though when they ever had been was anyone’s guess. 

It was the simple task of kill or be killed, and it served a dual purpose. For Riko, who had no powers and no advanced training, it was a chance to prove his worth. And for the rest of the Raven Academy it was used to teach constant vigilance. The expectation was clear: They were to fight as though it were real or risk the wrath of their father. 

Riko had walked into Jean’s room, left arm extended to hold a switchblade. It was a pitiful weapon, and looked even more unnatural in Riko’s hand. He had had tears in his eyes, but his lips had been pulled into a thin determined line. 

Jean, waking at the sound of Riko pulling the door open, sat up in his bed. Taking one look at Riko he knew he had just come from their father’s study. The bruising was fresh, not fully developed yet, but even in the dark of the room he could recognize it. 

Riko walked over slowly, calculated. They were both aware that Jean could stop him at any point. It was several breathless moments before Riko’s voice broke the silence of the room. 

“I have to.” 

“I know,” Jean whispered. He forced himself to look at Riko though all he wanted was to look away. The tears hadn’t spilled over yet, and Jean knew the anger behind them matched the self-loathing that had Riko’s hand shaking. 

“If I go back with another loss—” Riko’s voice broke, cracked into this horrible mess. 

“I understand.” 

“You should just kill me,” Riko said pathetically. And then he stood there, pleading with his eyes. He seemed inspired by the idea, nodding his head a little. “Yeah, Jean. You should just kill me. It would be easy for you. I don’t know why he keeps me around anyway and it would be so much easier—”

Jean reached out to steady Riko’s hand. He held on tightly and Riko closed his eyes, a sob moving through his slender chest. 

“Hey,” Jean said softly. When Riko didn’t open his eyes he repeated it. 

Riko looked down at him finally, rage and fear and utter defeat washed across Riko’s features. 

“I’m not going to do that, Riko.” Jean shook his head a little, as if to emphasize. “I’m not going to do that.” 

Riko closed his eyes again. “Please.” 

Jean squeezed Riko’s hand once more before letting go. He peeled off his shirt, exposing his chest before settling back down in the bed. 

“Get a few swipes, but make them deep or he won’t believe you. I’ll have to wrestle the knife out of your hand. Maybe knock you out for good measure.” 

“Jean,” Riko said pitifully. 

“Quickly,” Jean prompted. “Or he won’t believe you.” 

It hadn’t mattered in the end. Their father found out that Jean had allowed it, that Riko had practically begged. Riko suffered worse than he would have had he failed and Jean had scars to serve as a reminder that he was powerless to protect his brother.

* * *

** TODAY **

_From the perspective of 00.02_

_AKA Number 2_

_AKA The Kraken_

_AKA 'Jean'_

They came randomly sometimes—the memories of his childhood. Jean had gotten pretty good at talking himself into waking up when the nightmares became particularly bad. When he opened his eyes he could still feel Riko’s blade cutting across his skin. 

He couldn’t close his eyes again for fear of falling right back into the memory, so he kept them fixed on the ceiling. It was a trick he had picked up as a child. Jean didn’t move from his spot until light began to peak through the windows. 

When it became too bright outside to ignore the approaching day, Jean let out a long slow breath before pushing back the covers and getting out of bed. He stretched his body lightly before setting to work to make his bed. And before closing the door to his room behind him, he turned back to examine that everything was in its place. 

He was hit suddenly with a fresh wave of nostalgia. If he let his eyes lose focus just enough he could see images of himself in his youth dance across his vision. Images of lounging on the floor with Jeremy and Kevin, whispered conversations with Riko, the constant and incessant pranking of Neil, and Andrew’s snappy retorts and taunts. When he closed his eyes he could feel Renee’s hugs wrap around his body. He walked out of his room before the haunting of the memories could force him right back under the covers. 

Today, Jean decided, was the day. He would clean out his father’s things and begin ridding the place of his presence. He was, with the exception of Jeremy, the only one who had stayed any length of time after Renee had died. And the house needed to be rid of his presence as much as possible if any of them were going to ever live in it again. 

He couldn’t start with the study. It was too fresh, the intensity of their father’s abrasive and indifferent attitude towards them as children hung in the stale unused air. Too many times had Jean stood in the doorway to his father’s study only to be shooed away the moment he’d arrived. 

In truth, despite his resolution to begin cleaning out his father’s things, Jean couldn’t find a place to start. He wandered mindlessly around the halls, opening doors he never would have bothered with as a child. He didn’t find anything particularly enticing—though what he was looking for he could not name for himself. 

As he walked through the house, it was hard not to remember the truly terrible things they had experienced. He’d known how to wield a knife since he was three. If he rested his hands on the surface of flat a table he still have expected his father to cane the backsides for failing to follow through in drills. Sometimes when he touched mundane household items he could feel the past sting of abuse, and they slipped from his grip and shattered to the ground. And even now, as a grown adult, he still looked for the nearest exit the moment he entered a room. With the exception of Neil, Jean had probably grown to be the most paranoid of all of the children of the Umbrella Academy. It was something Riko had written about extensively in his memoir. 

At the thought of Riko, Jean felt his stomach sink, his weight pitching forward slightly as he lost his center of gravity. It was too painful to think about Riko sometimes. 

On the third floor, in the west wing, Jean opened a small room unlike the others he had stumbled in before. All along the wall, in addition to different clipboards with various scribblings, was a wall of TV monitors and a well-worn VCR. On the desk just beneath the monitors were a smattering of thick VHS tapes, with more tapes placed meticulously in a closet off the right corner of the room. 

The screens were blank, and in the stillness of it, Jean felt his nerves bubble up in his throat. He looked over his shoulder and into the empty hallway before closing the door silently and locking it. He didn’t hesitate as he pressed play. 

All of the screens lit up at once, and Jean was bombarded with fuzzy blue images of his siblings when they were children. He checked the timestamps in the corner of each screen. Each screen showed various months across 1999. 

They were different images than Jean remembered when he walked around the house. There was so much more laughter than he remembered. His fingers reached out towards the young versions of themselves, skittering along the dusty screens to trace outlines of their former selves. 1999. That was before the worst of it, before missions that nearly killed them. Before missions that had taken one of them. Before increased paranoia and increased punishment. 

In the farthest screen off to the left lower corner, was a constant feed on Riko. Jean watched him, practicing his violin in the living room while everyone else laughed and played around him. Jean followed everyone else’s movements, the way they chased each other as though Riko wasn’t even there. And Riko was zoned in on what he was doing, fingers moving nimbly across the surface of the delicate instrument.

When he thought about his siblings, it was hard to separate the good from the bad. He loved them—deeply and he knew that. But when he was around them, it was hard to bring forth any of the positive emotions, and impossible not to dwell on the negative. So much had torn them apart, creating larger and larger tears in the fabric of their relationships, and it hurt Jean’s chest to try to parse through all of that. 

It wasn’t long before he could no longer watch the screens. He turned the VCR off and stared at the black screens until he felt a comfortable nothingness. When it settled over his body and his mind, he moved into action once more. There were file cabinets along the far wall, and Jean figured it was better to be thorough with one room instead of jumping around the seemingly infinite spaces of the academy. 

The drawers resisted slightly as he pulled them open, but enough jiggling of the tracks and the drawer pulled open freely. Hundreds of file folders, all neatly labeled in their father’s scribble, each number carefully with subsections. Jean pulled at random and began to read. The more he read, the more confused and irritated he became. He sat on the floor, at least two dozen files open around him, pouring through information that he didn’t fully understand. 

There was hardly any natural light in the room, so it wasn’t clear how much time had passed before the doorknob was jiggling, Jeremy knocking on the wood from the outside. 

“You in there, Jean?” Jeremy called from the hallway. 

Jean pulled the door open, surprised Jeremy was looking for him. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere, but I saw your keys so I knew you hadn’t left.” Jeremy looked around the room. “What are you doing in here?” 

“Looking through Dad’s stuff.” He walked back towards the files. “Here, look at this.” 

He thrust some of the spare files that were laid open on the ground into Jeremy’s hands. 

“Records on the others that were born like us,” Jean explained as Jeremy flipped through. His eyes moved quickly across the page, widening with the information he was taking in. “Some of them died as a result of their powers. Others are still alive, according to these notes. But he kept track of almost all of them. Newspaper clipping, notes on their theoretical abilities” 

“He knew about Andrew’s twin,” Jeremy said, slightly surprised as he read the file more deeply. 

“That’s the only mention of any of us,” Jean said with a tight expression. “The only piece I can find so far anyway.” 

“He must’ve written about us somewhere,” Jeremy said, a bit distracted as he continued through nameless faces of people they didn't know. 

“I know, but I haven’t found his journal yet. I’m sure there’s information on us in there.” 

“His journal?” 

“Yeah, you know the one he was always writing in it? It’s missing.” 

Jeremy looked up finally from the files, his features pulled tight—eyebrows furrowed, his front teeth worrying at his bottom lip, nose slightly scrunched. 

“Well, Dad was getting increasingly paranoid. His messages up to me were…” Jeremy shook his head slightly. “Interesting to say the least.” 

Jean felt a little uncomfortable at the mention of Jeremy’s mission to space. He hadn’t spoken to him since before he left—and even though he doubted Dad would have allowed any messages to get through he hadn’t even tried. Jean had wanted to say something since he’d been back, but he’d never had any practice at speaking about difficult things. Silence was his default disposition in moments of uncertainty. 

“But I don’t think we should go through Dad’s things,” Jeremey continued. He handed the files back to Jean gingerly. 

“He’s dead,” Jean said flatly. 

“They are still his things. We should respect that.” 

Jean scoffed. “You’re serious?” 

Jeremy didn’t display any of his usual brightness as he looked into Jean’s eyes. “Look. I know not everyone had the relationship with Dad that I did, but—”

“Fuck you.” 

It wasn’t ferocious like Neil would have been, or blunt like Kevin. Jean wasn’t amused as Andrew would have been, and he certainly wasn’t hesitant like Riko. It was flat, devoid of everything, and Jean would have been surprised how quickly emotion flared out of him if he hadn’t engaged autopilot. 

It did seem to surprise Jeremy though. 

“Jean,” he said softly. It seemed like he wanted to say more but didn’t know how. 

“None of us had a relationship with him,” Jean continued. “He was callous and pitiless and unrelenting, and we were his test subjects not his children.” 

“I know why you feel that way. And I’ve felt like that sometimes, but he was trying to make us better. He wanted us to have purpose—”

“No,” Jean said. He felt blank and empty, and the awfulness of it spread through his veins, hardening everything in its wake. “He stripped us of everything to manipulate us into believing in his ridiculous mission to save the world.” 

“The world needed us.” 

“They never needed us, Jeremy. Don’t be obtuse. No one _needs_ us. They never have and they never will. The world has been fine all these years without us together. When are you going to see Dad was only serving himself? There was no meaning behind any of it.” 

“And the moon? I’m assuming you think there was no meaning there?” 

Jean was stunned at Jeremy’s question. 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“But it’s what you suggested.” 

“I’m sorry, Jeremy.” 

“Don’t apologize, like I’m fragile and screwed up. Dad sent me there with an explicit purpose, and what we did as children mattered to the people we saved.” 

Jean let out a shallow breath, willing the tension to leave his muscles. He hated fighting with Jeremy. Neil was quick to temper, but just as quick to flare out, and didn't remember half the things he seemed to yell when he was pissed. Kevin and Jean rarely argued as children, all practicality and logic between the two of them. And Andrew had never taken any of them seriously enough to be mad, all of the fighting he did was purely for his own entertainment. Renee and Jean had just used knives to settle their differences, and it usually ended in a fit of laughter. But Jeremy was all brooding disappointment and grudging indifferences, and Jean a byproduct of neglect and self-hatred, knew that nothing good came from that combination. 

“I know. I’m just—I’m just confused. I went to visit Riko and looking through Dad’s stuff made me angry—”

“You went to see Riko?” Jeremy interrupted. 

Jean nodded. “It hadn’t gone well.” 

Jeremy started biting thoughtlessly along his lower lip as he contemplated something internally. 

“Let’s go train,” he said suddenly. 

Jean was surprised. “Seriously?” 

“Why not? It’s been a while. It’s not as though we both don’t need the experience, or the company.” 

“Alright.” It was something to do at least, even if it wasn’t how Jean wanted to spend his time exactly. 

“I wonder if I can still kick your ass,” Jeremy said with a challenging smile.

“You’d have to land a blow,” Jean said, forcing himself into the banter. 

“I’m not letting you use your knives,” Jeremy warned. 

“And how is that fair? Are you planning not to use your strength?” 

“Oh, Jean, you know I can’t just turn it off like that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :) Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Feel free to find me on tumblr and send me any suggestions/asks: @gladiatorgrl


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